


"Brexit"

by Transistance



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: British Politics, Gen, Not Serious, Political Parties, Reapers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 19:27:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7281697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transistance/pseuds/Transistance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a political rally mortal-side, and Grell decides that a day-trip is in order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Brexit"

**Author's Note:**

> First off I'd like to make some Disclaimers: I don't live in England so do not know the exact niceties of the political feeling down there, so the opinions expressed are probably closer to Scottish politics than London views. Hopefully it does not appear that I am slagging any party (excepting UKIP. I am slagging UKIP) - it doesn't go very deep into policies and whatnot, and is also a bit rushed because the referendum is _today_ and I hadn't finished it ahhh
> 
> I have tagged it not serious but let's be honest, the fic isn't serious but I'm fairly certain that Bad Things are going to happen irl whichever way the vote swings. The current political atmosphere is terrible and everyone hates each other.

It was a nice, sunny day. Mortal London was bright and cheerful. Birds sang. Children played in the streets. It was a picturesque scene, only interrupted a little by the gathering mob of protesters, other protesters protesting against the first protesters, and dodgy third-party sliders attempting to hand out leaflets and flog buttons. Of course, there was more than a little tension in the air – but what else could be expected from a political rally at which _every_ party was represented?

It hadn't been planned quite like this. Initially it had been a nice, calm anti-EU protest organised by some of the louder-voiced Tories with the reluctant agreement to let the odd anti-EU UKIP and/or Labour supporter in on the sly (nothing had been said about the Lib-Dems. It was widely believed that the Liberal Democrats didn't really exist all that much after their previous electoral disaster, and if they did exist they certainly wouldn't have the momentum to actually come out and protest much). This surprising lack of gatekeeping had allowed pro-EU voters of all parties to creep discretely in, causing what had been a friendly xenophobic get-together to disintegrate into a free-for-all shouting fest.

The atmosphere, Grell had decided, was _delightful_ – it provided the opportunity both to catch up with local politics and eye up anybody else who'd thought the same. She hadn't high hopes for an office turn out, given her colleagues' tendency toward lacking interest in mortal governmental issues (if it didn't affect the death-toll, it didn't affect them) but had managed to drag Ronald along with her. He had tried to smarten himself up more than usual (which made him more out-of-place than her; twice he'd been asked which politician he was) and wore a small pin identifying his political alignment alongside his ever-present smile.

“My little Ronnie, all shined up and ready to push his political ideals on the unsuspecting public,” Grell teased, grinning. And then - “My, but it's certainly busy, isn't it?”

“You're not wrong there! I'm just hoping we won't run into anyone from the office. Girls get real reticent as soon as they don't share your political ideals, y'know?”

“Oh, hush. Nobody'll get on at you for supporting Labour.” She waved a hand at him, and then rethought the statement. “Nobody who's worth going out with, at least... Actually, girls aside, don't look now but I _think_ that might just be two acquaintances of ours there.”

“Who-” The younger reaper turned fast, scanning the crowd for whomever Grell found familiar, and gave a relieved sigh upon catching sight of two of their colleagues. Eric and Alan – sporting different colours, surprisingly – didn't see them immediately, which Ronald would have been happy enough with, but Grell saw fit to holler their names and over they came.

Alan greeted them amicably enough, but Eric gave a friendly nod to Grell and paid no notice to Ronald at all. Grell jumped in before anything could be said. “Those aren't any colours I recognise.”

Eric nodded again, and then explained – “I'm with the SNP.” All three of his peers frowned, and Grell said, “Do the Scottish National Party even-”

Ronald had opened his mouth as though shocked, pointed a very accusatory finger and cut her off. “It's _your_ lot who let the Tories worm their way back into power!”

“ _My_ lot? It isnae our fault that your party willnae stop crumbling in on itself – if you'd had a leader who people'd taken seriously you wouldn't a' needed Scots' votes to big you up anyway!”

“You staged a _referendum_ right before the change! You forced Labour to tear themselves apart!”

“In Scotland, aye! But in England? The SNP had nothin' to do wi' your in-fighting and backstabbing-”

Grell exchanged a glance with Alan and started, “...He is aware that-”

“Yes,” Alan cut across her, in a long suffering tone that betrayed how many times he had answered the question already. “Eric is _fully aware_ that he can't vote for the Scottish National Party. But he insists on doing this anyway. In the actual election he isn't going to throw away his vote again, though, _are you, Eric?_ ”

Eric glanced up and muttered something about “ _Bloody good for nothing English politicians who cannae run a hundred metres let alone a country_ ” before continuing his argument with Ronald.

“And you're with the..?”

“Lib-dems.”

“Ah. Who is it again, it's been no time at all but his name escapes me...” She clicked her fingers, once, twice, feigning a loss of memory. “Their leader is..?

“Farron.”

“Farron who?”

Alan gave her what, for him, constituted a dirty look. “Come on, I know he's not as well known as Clegg was, but-”

“Clegg who?” Alan made a mock swipe at her head and Grell ducked away, giggling. “I'm sure I'd recall a man with a title so vile. Is it a pseudonym?”

“He was co-leader of the country not so long ago! Nick Clegg.”

“Ah – _Clegg_! That's the one. Wee Nick Clegg. Shares his name with a blood-sucking insect and didn't do much better for the people of this country.”

Alan frowned a little, but didn't argue. “Farron will do a better job of it.”

“Ha! Farron's another wet paper bag. I haven't heard a single thing about him – are you sure he's not there just so as _someone_ has the job?”

“No.” It was amazing how patient Alan could be, especially whilst being jostled continuously by political oppositions. “Farron has as many policies and ideals as the next man – he just hasn't been given the screen time so far for anybody to really hear them if they haven't actively sought them out.”

“ _Hm_.” Grell rolled her eyes in a wide sweep, giggling again at Alan's exasperation, and then added, “Really, though! I don't even know what his thoughts are on _this_ referendum. I haven't heard anything at all from the Lib dems since their rather abrupt fall from grace.”

“That doesn't mean that they aren't doing anything,” he insisted. “They're just... regrouping.” He'd lost her interest. Grell's eyes were on the crowd again, and after a moment her lips parted in surprise and she gestured slightly forward, prompting Alan to turn and accidentally meet the distant eyes of their boss. He seemed to be trying rather valiantly to go in the opposite direction, but the dynamics of the crowd and Grell's sudden strides toward him spelled doom for his escape. The other reapers followed, in vague disorder.

“Will! I didn't expect to see you here – didn't think you'd be the sort to make your political views public – I...”

Grell stumbled and ground to a halt when she got close enough to see the badge that he sported – it was the same style as Ronald's, and expressed his affiliation clearly. “You... You're a _Tory_ ,” she spluttered, eyes wide. “ _You_ 're a _Tory_?”

William's eyebrow twitched, once, dangerously. “Yes?”

“My _God_ ,” she said, with feeling. “You love a man a hundred years and never once stop to consider that he might follow _that_ dark parade.” There was a slight pause in which Grell managed to cycle through several rather warped facial expressions, and then she said tentatively, “But – are you an _out_ Tory or an _in_ Tory?”

“They're the leading party in the country – it's not exactly uncommon.” He pushed his glasses up, narrowing his eyes at each of them in turn. “And I don't believe I want to share that information with you. Dare I ask what party _you_ support, Grell? Or are you just here to stir up trouble?”

“Why – is your eyesight all that bad? Can't you see -” she gestured to the ribbons in her hair, and grinned - “I'm with the Greens!”

“The Greens,” William repeated dully. “ _Why_ on _Earth_ -”

“Hey, don't you take that tone!” Ronald snapped at the same time as Eric snarled, “They'd do a shit ton more for poor folk than your people have ever-”

“The Conservative party are not doing a bad job of-”

“-pouring the nations money into their own pockets, aye! But it's aw' benefit cuts and tax evasion and those smug bastards grinning down and spoutin' 'bout how Britain's _so special_ and needs to be _strong_ and _united against foreigners_ an'-”

“The vast majority of the party is not racist-”

“Nah, just classist! Using under the belt smear campaigns against political rivals like-”

“Labour? We don't have to! Corbyn is even weaker than Miliband was-”

“At least neither of them stuck their dicks into a decapitated pig!”

“There's no proof of that-”

“-or run an off-shore oil sham! And anyway, you can't just vote for the man in charge! You gotta back the party's _policies_ , what they want to do, not just the ninny on the podium!”

“On the contrary, Knox, there always-”

Grell and Alan exchanged a glance.

“...I don't suppose there's anyone else around here we should know about?” Grell asked, the attempted lightness of tone drowned in her obvious trepidation. Alan shrugged.

“I've seen the Undertaker around, but he seems to be set upon an Independent candidate – so I doubt he'll hassle us. Apart from that, I don't think... I... Oh no. Oh, _no_.”

Alan somehow managed to blanch paler than his naturally very white complexion, staring at some apparition behind Grell. “If we're lucky he won't see us here-”

Grell spun on her heel and found herself staring up into the face of Lawrence Anderson, which was terrifying for more than enough reasons to make her take several steps backward.

First off was the banner. It was very large and very bright, and proclaimed _Immigration has brought this country to its knees_ in very large text, and _Make Britain Great Again_ slightly smaller. Second off was his face, which was red and shouting a background buzz of gently racist anti-EU, anti-immigrant, anti-foreigner but pro-Farage slander at his general surroundings. And thirdly, less noticeable only by merit of the extremity of the others, the mass of stickers and badges in purple and yellow that proclaimed UKIP, UKIP, FARAGE FOR PM, DOWN WITH UNELECTED FOREIGN TYRANTS, DEFEND BRITAIN, RULE BRITANNIA, BREXIT, VOTE LEAVE, TAKE OUR COUNTRY BACK INTO OUR OWN HANDS. He was absolutely festooned in the things. 

“Oh no,” Grell agreed, very quietly. “Oh _no_.”


End file.
